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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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The Kids Aren't Alright

And in the end, I'd do it all again. I think you're my best friend

Summary: Set twenty-eight years after Call It What You Want To, Day Court Prince and Princess Ivy and Soren Spell-Cleaver are left to deal with consequences of their parents decisions.

Note: ACOTAR next-gen. Every odd chapter is Ivy, every even is Soren. This is chapters 1 & 2 combined, you can read them separated on AO3

Chapter 1 & Chapter 2

IVY

PROLOGUE:

Lucien walked the quiet, dark halls of the Day Court palace uneasily. He was unsettled after Helion, the father he’d only just reconnected with a decade earlier, had beckoned him. Elain lay asleep in their bedchamber curled around one of their children. Soren, his son, was a good sleeper. Lucien had lingered for only a moment, drinking in the mop of red curls and the little thumb suckled between little, pink lips as the boy lay passed out beside his mama.

Lucien only had to open the doors of the bedroom to find his daughter staring up at him with those big, contemplative eyes. A cascade of messy red curls tumbled down her little shoulders as she raised her arms.

Up.

Ivy always knew when he was awake, just as she knew when he had business he needed to take care of. While Soren was content to sit in his mothers garden and listen to her talk, Ivy liked to watch. She’d sit in Helion’s lap while he met with his advisors, so still and silent it unnerved the courtiers around her. What was she learning? They all wondered it. Sometimes, Lucien thought Ivy would have been better off in Autumn Court with his brother and the other crafty people his brother ruled.

There was no mistaking Ivy for Day. She was the little beacon of light guiding him as he made his way to Helion’s study. Ivy squirmed the moment she realized where Lucien was taking her, slipping from his arms to stand just beside him, her little bare foot tapping on the marble floor. Lucien almost chuckled. It might have been funny had Ivy not been such a serious little girl. She was two.

He pushed open the arching, golden doors and Ivy launched herself inside with a breathless, “Papa.”

Helion turned in his chair, arms outstretched to catch Ivy before she tripped over the edge of the white rug in his study. Hauling her up in his lap, Lucien watched the way Helion studied her. Ivy was glowing just as Helion did, that golden sunlight pouring from beneath her warm brown skin. Helion brushed a little curl off Ivy’s face.

“Don’t you sleep?”

She nodded, smiling sweetly when Helion kissed her chubby little cheek.

“Tell me,” Lucien murmured, sitting across from his father. Helion was still gazing down at Ivy with open affection.

“How many High Lords get to witness how their line will survive?” Helion murmured. “To have a son and a granddaughter…” he trailed off, still stroking Ivy’s cheek. She laid it against Helion’s bare chest, curling closer. She’d be asleep in five minutes—sleeping on Helion was Ivy’s favorite place to be. It had once been him, when she was a tiny baby. Elain had complained about it endlessly.

Lucien understood how she felt, now. Replaced by his own father.

“You’re stepping down.” It wasn’t a question.

“Your mother has agreed to join me,” he whispered, running his fingers through Ivy’s curls. “She doesn’t want to be Lady of Day Court. I…” he trailed off helplessly. Lucien couldn’t blame Helion, though the thought of becoming High Lord made his stomach wither into nothing. He would have done the same thing for Elain. Would have done anything for her.

“When?”

“Solstice,” Helion murmured. “I’ll begin warning the courtiers so anyone who wants to leave…” Not everyone was happy that an Autumn Court prince and Night Court princess had been crowned Helion’s heir. As if he or Elain had never had any say in where they’d first started out.

“It won’t be forever,” Helion added, turning his golden eyes back to the now sleeping child in his lap. “Is Soren…?”

“No,” Lucien replied. Soren—his sweet, soft son. So unlike his older sister. Ivy had been born five minutes before him but might have been five years for how different they were. Soren was all Elain and what did that make Ivy? Lucien was certain he’d been a more difficult child.

“She might be the first magically chosen High Lady we’ve seen in…” Helion blew out a breath. “Ten thousand years.”

Feyre and Rhysand had woken something when he’d shared his magic with her. Lucien didn’t think Ivy would be the last. He’d been leaning hard on Kallias over in Winter, but if his daughter was also showing the usual signs, the High Lord wouldn’t say. Lucien didn’t blame him. Guarding heirs wasn’t uncommon—a rival might try and kill a child in order to subvert the magic to a more favorable family or child.

Lucien and Helion hadn’t said a word about it—not to each other or anyone else. They merely watched, comparing her to Nyx in Night Court and Alexander in Spring. Lucien had met both boys numerous times given Nyx was Feyre’s eldest son and Alexander the first male born in Spring in over five hundred years. Both of them had all the marks of a future High Lord. Powerful and all but leaking magic, even as toddling babes. Lucien recalled the way shadows used to trail after Nyx’s wings as he learned to fly and how Alexander had spent a year with his claws protruding from his knuckles.

And then there was Ivy, radiating sunlight and destroying Helion’s carefully laid wards and spells with very little thought. One temper tantrum risked all of Rhodes if Ivy was truly in a mood.

“We tell no one until she comes of age,” Lucien all but whispered. “Let them assume its Soren. Let them think it’s only me.”

Helion nodded. It would have been dangerous to come after Ivy–Lucien could call on Eris and Elain, her sisters. Spring would stand with them as well…but no amount of armies would bring back his daughter should someone decide to kill her. And Lucien knew all too well it would be one of his own courtiers that did it. No outside influence, but some jealous lord unable to tolerate Lucien’s daughter had been chosen over their spoiled son.

“You’ll make a magnificent High Lord,” Helion whispered. “I am proud to see you take the throne.”

His throat tightened with emotion. Lucien only nodded before rising from his chair.

“She can stay with you tonight,” he murmured, taking one last look down at his sleeping daughter.

Helion held a protective arm against her little body.

The future High Lady of Day Court.

----

Ivy’s very first memory was of him. Four years old in Spring Court and made to bow before the High Lord’s heir. Alexander had been six. Blonde hair, green eyes, and tan skin on a little boy with a scowling face. Her parents had bowed to the High Lord and Lady of Spring Court and they had done the same. Her father and Tamlin had been friends and still were, in a way. Perhaps not as close, but friends all the same. They wanted their children to get along.

Alexander had a brother just like Ivy did. Finn was more tolerable and only a year younger than her and Soren. Unlike her twin brother, Alexander and Finn were obnoxious. So utterly dull and infuriating. She had bowed, annoyed she was required to when Alexander refused.

He merely stared at her face. Like he’d never seen another person before.

Their interaction hadn’t gotten better over the years. Ivy did her best to avoid him and Alexander didn’t speak to her unless there were no other options. While Finn and Soren smoothed out their differences in favor of wreaking havoc, Ivy and Alexander seemed to grow more oppositional by the day.

It was one sentence from Alexanders lips when he’d been fifteen and her thirteen that had cemented her lifelong hatred of him. Traipsing through the garden sullenly, he’d trotted just behind as he always did. His father insisted he show it to her because, as Elain Archeron’s daughter, she must love plants.

Ivy had been struggling to keep her magic in check that year and somewhere between a trellis of roses and bushels of begonias, it had slipped out. Sunlight radiated around her, betraying her to the Spring Court’s heir. He’d watched, arms crossed over his chest.

And said the one thing she thought everyone must have thought.

“A shame about your brother.”

Of course he thought so. Of course the male dominated Spring didn’t want to see any lady—especially one so closely associated with the Archerons—ascend into power. And Ivy, irate and already out of control, had sent a bruising gust of wind at Alexander. He was already built like a grown male by then, muscular and a good foot and half taller than her. She’d delighted hearing him groan when his body slammed into the side of his fathers estate.

And her father, trying to control the damage done, started forcing them to see the Spring Court heirs less and less, until it became just once a year at the annual High Lord’s meeting.

She came of age in Autumn that year. Eighteen was a big deal to any prince or princess and Ivy and Soren would be spending theirs with their Uncle Eris. Their mother was pregnant with a third child, long-hoped for after nearly two decades of trying without success. It left their Aunt Arina and the High Lord of Autumn—Uncle Eris, to plan on their behalf.

It was the first year her father ever made mention that it wasn’t Soren who would inherit. There was always the possibility that the new babe her mother carried might usurp Ivy. She’d thought of that often, trying so hard not to let fear contaminate her happiness. She wanted to love the new baby and knew if they came out glowing and strong and Ivy’s own magic dimmed, she would be disappointed and resentful.

Especially if that baby was a boy.

She wanted to ask Eris about it. He’d grown up with six other brothers. How did he stand seeing new ones born knowing the mother might change her mind? It felt selfish and Ivy was ashamed. It sent her to the woods and the treehouse Eris had built for them. It belonged to his own daughter now. Sienna was seven and as far as Ivy could tell, her cousin lived in it.

Ivy climbed the well worn rope ladder with shaky feet, swaying in the cool, autumn air. Swaying treetops waved cheerfully, raining a sea of jewel colored leaves onto the floor beneath.

The treehouse itself truly was something from a dream. Eris, who didn’t think he’d have children, had gone all out for her and Soren. A palace in the sky was how he’d described it and it had certainly felt that way when she was a little girl. Her and Soren had spent almost every night they visited with Eris and Arina giggling out here and listening to the wolves howl nervously, hoping they’d venture down so the creatures might have a meal.

Standing on the deck to survey her uncle's domain, Ivy saw him.

Alexander wasn’t like the other heirs to other courts, except his father and brother, of course. Alexander was big—there was no other way to describe him. Spring Court bred warriors and as the future High Lord, Ivy knew Alexander had been given a sword just as soon as he could stand. It showed in his form—he rivaled her Uncle Cassian in terms of the musculature on his body.

Muscles that she was given a front row seat for when he pulled his green tunic and the white shirt beneath up over his head. Shoulder length blonde hair fluttered in the breeze, caressing his broad, tanned shoulders. He was making his way towards the river bank, hand sliding down his toned stomach.

Ivy sucked in a breath. It was wrong to watch him and yet despite her courts reputation, she was forbidden from the orgies and watched like a hawk by her protective father and her overbearing grandfather. No male could approach her without having to face down the High Lord and the former High Lord, let alone get close enough to take off their shirt.

She told herself she just wanted to look. Just to see.

He had his broad back to her, those golden muscles rippling as he removed his pants to get into the water. Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest.

Look away look away look away—

He kicked off his boots and then tossed away his pants and there he was. His front was hidden from view which was just as well. Ivy didn’t think she wanted her first cock to be Alexanders, no matter how nice his backside was. Still, she kept her eyes on him as he slipped into the water, letting that clear, cold rush over him until only his face was above.

“IVY!” Soren’s voice pulled her from her thoughts and not a moment too soon. She’d been all but hoping he might turn around anyway, just so she knew what they were supposed to look like. Alexander turned sharply, every inch a predator in that stream.

“IVY!” Soren shouted again and Gods if Alexander realized she was up here he’d know she’d seen him. She couldn’t stand the humiliation. Quickly, Ivy scrambled down the ladder and ran, catching her brother just at the edge of the woods.

“Don’t make me cut that fucking cake without you,” Soren said when she scrambled into view. “Up in the tree house?”

“Yes,” she agreed, hands on her knees as she gulped down air.

“C’mon,” Soren murmured, hand on her back. It annoyed her that he was so much taller, so much steadier. He was supposed to be the wild child and she the steady one. Soren just understood her the way she’d always understood him. There was some secret language between them. He knew where she was hiding and when she stood fully, her lungs no longer burning, the look on his face told her he knew why she’d been hiding. Ivy slipped her arm through her brothers with a sigh.

Soren might have understood.

But Alexander didn’t. And she knew, when he returned later that night, that he knew she’d seen him. Those piercing green eyes had cut right through the crowd of dancers and revelers, pinning her in place. They burned with condemnation. She couldn’t look away just as she couldn’t deny the truth in his gaze.

His mouth curled into a cruel smile, his broad, tanned hand sliding down his tunic-clad chest. It was an invitation.

Did you like what you saw? Those eyes seemed to demand.

Ivy turned her back, heart pounding.

Because yes.

She’d liked it very much.

ALEXANDER:

Alexander had been dreaming about Ivy his entire life. Forced to grow up along side her as their fathers worked together, all Alexander had known was Ivy Spell-Cleaver. She’d been his childhood fascination in her pretty, poofy dresses and her waist length, red hair. He’d spent more time than he’d ever been willing to admit planning a future in which she became his Lady of Spring.

Back then, Alexander just assumed he’d be High Lord. He��d given very little thought as to what that might entail. As a teenager, burning hot with the resentment that came with those expectations, Ivy became a more fascinating figure to him. Did her father and brother not realize she was oozing with the same magic he was? That she’d been so clearly chosen only the willfully blind couldn’t see? Those russet eyes of hers caught everything, could pick things apart that Alexander wouldn’t have thought of.

He wanted her still.

He wanted her when he caught her in Autumn Court standing on that treehouse balcony, eyes unfocused on the trees beneath her. Had wanted her he’d so stupidly stripped himself to nothing—he’d been planning to, regardless—and even moreso when he realized she’d taken him in. Alexander would have bet all the treasure in his fathers trove that Ivy had never seen a naked male before. Lucien Vanserra and Helion Spell-Cleaver guarded her like near-feral dragons and her brother and cousins made her a terrifying prospect.

To warrior born Alexander, Ivy was a perfect choice.

He didn’t want to be High Lord. She wanted to be High Lady. There would always be people holding a knife against her throat. Who would make a better consort than him? He could keep her safe and stay out of her way. He could be her sword, would make any male thinking to unseat her and put her brother on the golden throne of Day reconsider.

Of course, Ivy didn’t want him. Ten years had passed between that afternoon in Autumn and that very moment. Another High Lord’s meeting meant a week of watching Ivy utterly ignore him. She’d become more sophisticated with it over the years when it came to avoiding him. No longer petulant and childlike, Ivy was merely gracious and utterly disinterested. When he stepped inside the ivory columns of the Day Court palace, Soren and Ivy were waiting with twin smiles of amusement on their faces. Just beside Ivy was Sage—ten years old, and the spitting image of the two of them. Lucien and Elain Vanserra had merely remade their eldest, though little Sage hide behind the white skirts of Ivy’s dress as she looked at them.

He knew without even asking with his own ten year old sister Aine was already wondering if this girl was a friend or if she’d be someone to push around. Selene, over in Night Court, was Aine’s favorite playmate. Sage was kept away from the rest of them and Alexander understood why. The pretty little girl seemed as if she were made of spun glass.

“Welcome,” Soren murmured, bowing to the High Lord of Spring and his wife. It was strange to see Soren take on any responsibility when it came to delegating or politics. He typically left that up to Ivy in favor of chasing females and causing problems. Soren had friends in every court and would have made a decent emissary if he’d ever had the inclination.

Finn grinned at Soren, nodding towards the door they’d just come out of. Alexander suspected he’d be dragging his younger brother back up, drunk and reeking of sex before the week was through. Soren looked well enough in his buttoned up white and gold toga but it was Ivy, in a matching two piece dress, that made Alexander’s legs shake.

She offered him little more than a nod of her head before offering his little sister the biggest smile. Ivy crouched, pushing Sage gently towards Aine while Alexander’s whole family watched. Aine’s biggest joy in life was transforming into a bear and chasing her friends around. Selene, with her wings, didn’t mind but Sage was little more than sugared candy. She looked as if a light breeze might sweep her away.

“Do you want to show Aine your toys?” Ivy asked, pressing her pink mouth against her sisters golden brown cheek. Sage shook a head of bouncy curls.

“Do you want to show her the pool?”

Sage hesitated and Aine pounced. “I’d like to see the pool.”

Beside her, Saorise put her hand on Aine’s shoulder in warning. Be nice. They were all thinking it, but no one dared to say it.

Sage nodded. “I can show you the pool.”

“She’s got a lot of swimsuits, if you want to borrow one,” Ivy added, rising gracefully back to her feet. Alexander didn’t dare let himself think about those movements, the fluidity of her body.

Sandwiched between his father and his younger sister, the last thing he needed was to flood the foyer of the Day Court palace with his arousal.

“Father is this way,” Ivy told Tamlin once her sister took off, walking so utterly proper. Just the way a princess ought to act.

“And our rooms?” his mother asked softly, tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear.

“Unchanged, lady,” Ivy replied without looking at any of them. Alexander understood what that meant. He would be far, far away from her. For one stupid moment, Alexander wondered if she’d found some other male. He spent a lot of time thinking about that.

Ivy took them directly to Lucien Vanserra, the one male Alexander was endlessly afraid of. That golden eye unnerved him, not because it was so out of place on his otherwise good natured face but because he swore it gave the High Lord the ability to see every lurid, filthy thought Alexander had ever had regarding his daughter.

“Keep an eye on your brother,” Tamlin ordered Alexander.

And that was it. Like cats, the three of them scattered into Day Court, looking to cause mischief or—in Saoirse’s case—catch up with friends they didn’t get to see very often. Alexander took after Ivy. Enough time had passed, he reasoned. Surely whatever bothered her about him could be overcome simply by getting to know him.

“Ivy!” he called, eyes narrowed on the brown expanse of skin visible between the top and bottom of her dress. Ivy’s steps halted, her hair swinging like a curtain down her back. She looked over her shoulder, those russet eyes narrowed. She was so fucking pretty that Alexander forgave her for it.

“Yes?”

Alexander didn’t know what to say to her. His heart pounded in his chest. “I…”

She arched a brow. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Did your father tell you about the humans?”

Stupid. Of course he hadn’t—he didn’t know. Tamlin was likely telling Lucien as they spoke. Still, it stopped her in her tracks. Ivy’s mother had been human once and Alexander was betting she still cared.

“What’s happening?” she asked, taking a step towards him. It was a mistake, in retrospect. She came just beside an open window and bathed in the late morning glow made her more ethereal, so impossibly beautiful that his whole body tightened.

He cleared his throat. “They ah…” fuck.

Ivy waited, taking another step closer, until he could scent her soft citrusy sunshine smell. Alexander had fucked up.

“Are they being hurt?” she asked. Russet eyes, framed with long, dark lashes, probed his face.

“No,” he said gruffly. “No, they are doing the harming. They’ve been conducting raids on the villages between our two boundaries and they have a lot of fae bane.”

A wrinkle formed between her eyes. “They’re harming your people?”

He nodded. All her usual animosity vanished as she considered this, lips pressed together.

“I should talk to my father,” she murmured, stepping around him. Alexander caught her, holding her wrist in his hand. The contact dredged something old and ancient in his chest, rattling like a bird trapped in a too small box. She looked up at him with wide eyes, sucking in a sharp breath.

She felt it too.

“Come see for yourself,” he offered. “I know what they mean to you.”

Her expression shifted into discomfort. Ivy pulled her wrist from his and stepped out of his personal space.

“I should talk to my father,” she said, firmer this time. Ever the future High Lady—she’d do this by the book.

He nodded.

“As you say, lady.”

Her eyes flashed, but no other words were exchanged between them. Still, it was a start. Alexander would take what he could get. He turned, meaning to head to his room and work out his frustration when it came to her on his cock. Soren and Finn rounded the corner, clearly up to no good.

It was the Day Court prince who paused, though. Russet eyes held him for just a moment, and then– “Want to come with?” Soren offered.

Maybe for the first time ever.

“Blow off some steam before Night Court arrives?” Finn added. Whatever rivalry Ivy imagined she had with him was nothing on the actual rivalry Nyx and Alexander had. Nyx would never stop punishing him for the sins of their parents, just like his stupid fucking father.

“C’mon,” Soren cajoled, his expression light despite those serious eyes. He had the gift of sight, or so they said. Helion’s court seemed utterly stacked with magic and two seers were rare. What did Soren know?

“Yeah,” Alexander agreed. “I could use a drink.”

“You could use a little pussy, too,” Finn joked.

Alexander couldn’t disagree with that.

IVY:

Ivy hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with her father. He’d been in closed door meetings with Tamlin, and later Rhysand and Eris, just as soon as they arrived. Instead, Ivy got to play babysitter. It irked her knowing that while Soren was drinking himself stupid down in Rhodes, she was keeping Aine and Sage from drowning in the pool.

Ivy didn’t know what to make of Aine. Selene liked her, but Selene was an Archeron through and through. Brash, bold, so utterly fearless. Just like Aine, who had turned to a bear in the shallow end, causing Sage to scream and scream. Sometimes Ivy wondered where her younger sister had come from. She was nothing like them—so wide-eyed and nervous. Like the whole world terrified her.

Ivy tucked her in bed before stomping into Rhodes to ruin Soren’s fun. If she had to be responsible, so did he. Besides, nothing gave Ivy more joy than ruining his fun when it came to sex. Soren was the whole reason her little dalliance with a Day Court courtier ended with their father banishing the entire family to another city. Soren swore she’d thank him for it one day with a wink.

“There’s a better male out there, Ives.”

Easy for her brother to say. He burned through females like it was his job and if she complained to her parents about it, Lucien merely chuckled and tried to reminisce over the good old days. As if Ivy ever wanted to think about that. Everyone was too cavalier about sex except when it came to her.

And Soren, with his fucking visions, had convinced her parents it was fine to all but sequester her away until whatever male she was destined to be with just waltzed on in. Like she was some sort of prize to be won. Ivy was five minutes from spending the summer in Dawn, the one place her brother had never quite managed to get a foothold. Their males had white wings and who knew–maybe she’d like that.

Maybe she’d take Auden up on his offer to train in Windhaven and meet the Illyrians.

Maybe—

“Just like that,” a masculine voice murmured, pulling Ivy from her thoughts. Rhodes was the sea of Day Court’s ruling family and the sprawling city, set atop a hillside, was buttressed just against the lavish palace her family lived in. Soren had a favorite tavern just outside the square and for a horrible second, she thought she was hearing her brother seduce a female.

Ivy glanced into the dark alleyway.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Alexander murmured, running on his large hands over some random female's bare leg. He was on his knees before her, tongue sliding up her thigh. Ivy froze, unsure what to do. She couldn’t take her eyes off his muscular form, still dressed in his fine blue and silver tunic and his well-fitted black pants.

Unaware they were being watched, Alexander pushed her skirt up over her hips. Running his nose through a soft thatch of curls, he groaned. “Lift,” he whispered, helping her drape her knee over his shoulder. He held her in his hands before burying his face against her cunt.

Ivy clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. It was so obscene the way his jaw worked, how his tongue slid between her folds. Eating like this was his favorite meal and he was starving. Ivy backed up before she did something stupid—like betraying her own arousal at that moment. She turned entirely, trying so hard to ignore the whining moans from the female in ally, pinned against the brick by Alexander’s hands and his body and his mouth—

“My name—”

“Don’t tell me,” Alexander growled. “I don’t need to know it.”

“Please,” that female begged, though if it was to tell him her name or something else, Ivy didn’t stick around to find out. Already, her scent was a mess. She couldn’t see Soren like this. He’d take one look at her, guess what had happened, and interfere in his obnoxious way. Ivy was a disaster by the time she retreated to her bedroom, messy and almost frantic. She couldn’t stop thinking about Alexander, about that female he had his mouth on.

Just like that.

What was wrong with her? She was coming out of her skin, practically burning as she paced the floor. Ivy’s bedroom overlooked the sea and yet that night, all she wanted was to stare out into the city and see when he’d return.

If he’d return. After all, wasn’t that what all males bragged about? Keeping up their respective females all night? She heard the way they talked, bragging through the halls for anyone to hear. Ivy knew if she walked out of her bedroom, she’d find some kind of party thrumming in one of the smaller ballrooms, one where no one wore clothes and everyone touched.

She was tempted—fuck, but Ivy was tempted. Everyone else was allowed to be physical except her. Why not her? She worked herself up until she finally pushed open that door. Her father would be in bed by then and if Soren managed to stumble home in time to greet the arriving Dawn Court, it would be a miracle. She was alone.

They couldn’t stop her. Ivy could do what she liked. Ivy made her way through the halls illuminated only by the faintest of faelight. Her body cast long shadows over the marble, making interlopers seem as if they lurked around every corner. Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest—her father would kill her, it seemed to best. Some courtier would brag about seeing his daughter naked and Lucien would kill the male, and then kill her. He’d be disappointed, he’d—-

A hand on her waist whirled her around. Another pressed her into the wall, caging her against a familiar body. Ivy recognized that faint scent of lilac and something so distinctly masculine, mingled sweetly. Green eyes all but glowed in the gloom, set in a beautiful face.

“There’s a naked male just beyond that corridor,” Alexander breathed softly. “You’re better off taking another route.”

She didn’t know what to say to any of that. Ivy merely stared at his mouth long enough for him to notice. It was the same pair that had been against that female in the ally.

“Go back to bed, Ivy,” he whispered, lowering his face until she could practically feel his stubbled jaw against her cheek. Ivy’s hands shot to his chest, intending to shove him away. She did managed to grab his tunic…but she did little else. Instead, Ivy panted, her mind struggling to come up with some eloquence.

You hate him.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

“I saw you,” she said instead, the absolute idiot. “In the alley.”

A soft growl escaped his throat. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And did you like what you saw?” he asked, pressing closer. “Did you wish it was you?”

“I felt sorry for her,” Ivy lied as Alexander ran his nose over the side of her neck. He could scent her want, could like tell just how desperate she was.

“All you have to do is ask.”

A shrieking laugh just down the hall told Ivy that whoever had been lurking had caught his prey. It was a clanging bell, dragging her back to reality. She was so stupid. She’d been about to let him fuck her up against the wall. She still wanted to, even as she shoved at him.

He smiled just as he’d done in Autumn, well aware her protests were pathetic and feeble.

“Your still have another females cunt in your mouth,” she snapped. Alexander was unrepentant, so utterly pleased to know she wanted him.

“I can wash it out.”

“You’re disgusting,” she informed him, dismissing him with a toss of her hair. Alexander laughed.

“Not half as disgusting as I bet you are. Hm, Ives?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Her heart was an out of control mess as he approached. Fingers brushed the hair off her neck, drawing goosebumps in their wake. He lowered his mouth, lips ghosting over her skin. “When is the last time someone touched you?”

She couldn’t answer that without betraying herself. It was practically unheard of to be as old as she was without any sexual experience. She’d been kissed, had been touched through her clothes, but nothing else. Ivy remained utterly still in that hall, all but whimpering when he pulled back.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he said. “It’s just a week.”

She turned to look at him, warring between the out of control desire she felt and her usual disdain and dislike.

“Then what is it?”

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “It’s just sex, Ivy. However you like it.”

She didn’t even know. Alexander mistook her silence as indecision.

“Think about it,” he said, putting a healthy distance between them. It did nothing to dampen his own arousal, the thick scent of it all but drowning her. One day, Alexander would be High Lord and she would have to look at him at these very meetings. He’d know what it was like to have her and if Ivy knew anything about High Lords, it was how absurdly possessive they were. What would he do when she took a consort?

What would his future wife think of her?

Ivy nodded, and for the second time, Alexander mistook her ascent as indecision.

“Let me know.”

But she already did. If he was offering, Ivy was going to take him up on it. She almost floated back to her bedroom. It was an elegant solution to her problem, all things considered. He would leave, would return to Spring.

And no one would be any the wiser.

ALEXANDER:

He didn’t sleep. Not with Ivy’s scent burning in his nose. It was better than he’d ever imagined, punctuated by her very obvious arousal. She’d seen him in that ally—hardly his intention, though she had been the inspiration. If Ivy had looked at that female at all, she might have noted her hair was red (a softer, blonder shade), her skin that warm gold, her eyes brown. He needed to thank Soren for letting him tag along…though he didn’t think the Day Court prince would appreciate hearing Alexander was thanking him for the potential to fuck his sister.

He was restless, his blood racing, body pulled by a million little strings. He’d been tempted to just track her down, to slant his mouth over hers and let his body say all the things he’d never quite figured out how to form his mouth around. Alexander didn’t want to ruin his chances, so in the morning he took his cock in hand and worked himself over twice, just to put a damper on his need.

He hadn’t come just to fuck the princess. Alexander had a practical concern and Day Court was the only place that could answer the question that had plagued him since he was a teenager.

How to abdicate the throne.

Helion Spell-Cleaver had done just that almost two decades earlier, stepping down in favor of his son. Alexander was too young to remember it, though it had caused chaos in Day Court for a solid few years. Even then, he knew Lucien Vanserra lost sleep worrying someone would try and kill his entire family.

It wouldn’t be like that for Alexander. There was still Finn.

There was Aine.

He privately thought, if the magic skipped him, it would slide right into his youngest sister. She had all the same tells he’d once had, but her use of the magic was far more elegant. Better trained, since no one expected her to be a warrior. And maybe the tides could shift. Between Winter’s princess and Ivy, perhaps Spring, too, could add another magically chosen High Lady to Prythian’s ruling elite.

He was the first up, and one of the first people in Lucien’s personal library. The Sun Palace held all the coveted knowledge in Prythian, jealously guarded. He couldn’t ask someone to look it up for him, not without risking gossip that would almost certain get back to his father. Tamlin was so proud of him, which made everything worse. His first born son, an obvious leader—Alexander’s warband rivaled the best, most elite units in Prythian and everyone knew it—and the future of Spring. He knew his father hoped he’d marry one of the ruling families daughters and usher in a golden age.

How would Alexander ever explain he wanted a female from another territory? The daughter of an Archeron, no less. Day Courts future High Lady, which his father wouldn’t understand. None of them would. He knew what his warriors would think, which ones would join him here and the ones that would remain behind, disgusted he chose to stand behind a female when he could have put one behind him.

The library was six stories tall. Alexander had never seen anything so large, so grand. It was the only place in the Sun Palace not immediately filled with light, he supposed because sunshine might damage thousands of year old texts. Instead, carefully placed sconces and overhead chandeliers replicated the look of outdoor light, bouncing off the white marble and the winding staircase that led up each new story. Set in one of the towers, each level looked down on the bottom-most one, where scholars and other academics could pick a table or a nice chair to do their work. Already, he saw one female in golden robes painstakingly transcribing something from a yellowing scroll to a new sheet of paper.

“Can I help you find something?” a male asked him, wearing that same gold robe as the female at the table.

“The magic that governs High Lords,” Alexander said after a moment's thought. “I have questions.”

“There is a scholar—”

“I would prefer to find them for myself,” he interrupted. That was hardly strange. Every High Lord in every territory was possessive over their magic. The scholar didn’t blink as he gestured upwards, offering Alexander the floor and the section.

Fourth floor, section eight. He made his way upwards, hoping to the mother he could find the exact spell or offering that might absolve him from ruling. And for three hours, Alexander poured through books written in long dead languages. Philosophers and historians alike all postulated on who and what governed a new High Lord. Was it the great mother herself? And if it was, was it wrong to interfere with her will? Did the cauldron? Or the land, blessed by the cauldron itself?

Alexander was frustrated by the time he emerged back into blinding daylight. He wanted to eat and think about what he’d found, which wasn’t much. He found Finn lounging on one of the open patios overlooking the sea, his face contemplative.

“Rough morning?”

“Father is in a mood,” Finn grumbled. “Apparently Aine tried to drown Sage and Elain Vanserra is furious. Who knows how true it is—Sage might have been splashed in the face, for all her hysterics.”

Alexander dropped into the nice, ivory chair beside his brother. “Is that all?”

Finn’s handsome expression darkened. He ran a hand through his golden hair, green eyes narrowing as he peered out to the sea. “No. Nyx is of course being…” Claws poked from Finn’s knuckles, sharp and lethal.

Alexander knew that feeling well.

“How long do they mean to punish us for father?” Finn asked, just as he always did. “Not just Nyx, but all of them.”

“Soren doesn’t,” Alexander reminded Finn. Soren and Finn were friends, maybe better friends than Tamlin and Lucien had ever been. Certainly Finn’s friendship with Soren trumped whatever relation he had to Nyx.

“Soren,” Finn scoffed. He turned his gaze to his brother, his face so like their mothers despite their fathers coloring. “Do you think we have mates?”

Alexander’s stomach knotted. He hoped not. After a lifetime of wanting Ivy, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to get her only to be hit with a mating bond for some other female. It sounded like a nightmare, no matter how romantic his father made it seem.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “They’re rare.”

“Yeah. Probably because our mates are scattered through other courts. Soren met his this morning and nearly caused an inter-territory incident. Thesan is furious…or so they say.”

“Dawn Court? For Soren?” Alexander almost laughed. “Good luck to her.”

“All this over Nyx and Soren’s mate?” Alexander questioned his younger brother. “Nothing else?”

Alexander could guess. He’d seen the way his brother often looked at the General of the Night Courts eldest daughter. Elyn, he thought, though he couldn’t be sure. She was the spitting image of her mother save for those dark wings at her back. Alexander had never thought much of it, but perhaps he wasn’t the only one who longed for something—someone—he couldn’t have.

And if Nyx ever guessed Finn liked anyone in his court, well…

Maybe he and Alexander would come to blows over it. And maybe being the High Lord’s heir would serve him well, in this instance. It would feel so fucking good to humble the prince of the Night Court, who, as far as Alexander could tell, was no more magically powerful than the rest of them.

Finn only shrugged. “What were you doing in the library today?”

Their eyes met again and fuck he wondered if his brother hadn’t guessed. “I like to read.”

“Yeah,” Finn rolled his eyes. “You should find father. Everyone is worried about the human raiders. I’ll bet Ivy Spell-Cleaver is being a dutiful daughter instead of wasting her morning skulking through the library.”

Alexander scowled. “Do you want to have this conversation? Or—”

“No,” Finn said quickly. “But you should go anyway, if only to keep Nyx from dominating the conversation and insisting he come and oversee Spring like his know-it-all father.”

A fair point.

Alexander made his way down after eating, pleased to see Ivy herself walking the halls with a truly exhausted expression. She held Sage in her arms despite Sage being entirely too big. Behind her, Aine and Selene trailed with angry expressions.

“She’s sensitive!” Selene declared, tucking a piece of that raven’s black hair behind her arched ear. Sage wailed, earning an eye roll from Aine.

“Why can’t you be nice?” Ivy demanded, halting when she saw Alexander step into frame..They hadn’t seen the other since the night before when she’d been in that little slip of a night dress and he’d reeked of another female. He was momentarily stunned by the blue gown draped over one of her tawny shoulders and the way the fabric hugged against her breasts and waist before falling in pleated fabric to the floor. One side of her hair was swept back with a golden barrette and her usual curls had been brushed into elegant waves.

“Alex!” Aine pulled his focus back to the scene at hand. “Tell Ivy that Sage–”

“Listen to Ivy,” he interrupted before Aine could go on some spoiled rant that would fuck his chances up. “What did you do?”

Aine crossed her arms over her chest with Selene openly sneered. It was Sage, sniffling, who said, “She chased me through the garden as a bear. I thought she was going to eat me!”

“I was going to eat you!” Aine declared with a high pitched scream. “I’m definitely going to—”

He caught Aine as she lunged, holding her in one arm while Ivy watched wide-eyed and upset.

“This is no way to treat friends,” Alexander hissed. “Or for a princess to act. Do you see Ivy chasing people through the garden?”

“She’s not any better!” Aine insisted, earning a look of surprise from the typically stoic Ivy Spell-Cleaver. “She hates us just like everyone else does! Why do I have to be nice when they all act like I—” he clapped his hand over Aine’s mouth before she could cause a true problem.

“Do not finish that sentence,” he hissed against her ear. Both Selene and Sage watched Aine’s furious outburst with curiosity but it was Ivy, setting her little sister on the floor, that came towards him.

“I’m sorry, Aine,” she murmured, brushing a piece of Aine’s golden hair from her ruddy, furious face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel as if I don’t like you.”

Alexander dropped his hand. “You don’t like my brother,” she whispered, his voice wavering. “And if you don’t like him, you don’t like any of us.”

Ivy met Alexander’s gaze. “Of course I like your brother,” she replied, the pretty liar.

“Do not,” she whispered.

“Of course I do,” Ivy insisted. “Why else would he be accompanying me to Solstice?”

Alexander dropped Aine so she could twist, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. Of them all, the strained relationship between the former Archerons and Alexander’s family hurt Aine the most. Maybe, Selene, too, whose every brother only heightened those tensions. It was almost impossible for the girls to be together outside of these yearly gatherings.

Alexander nodded, not daring to contradict Ivy. Aine looked at Sage, squared her shoulders, and said, “I’m sorry for trying to eat you. I won’t do it again.”

And Sage, wide eyed and clinging to her eldest sister's skirts, nodded nervously. Ivy shooed them off with a sweet smile, exhaling when all three girls ran off together. It left them alone in that empty hall, suddenly forced to make small talk after he’d had his fingers all over her body.

“Solstice, huh?” he tried to tease. His words sounded too serious to be playful.

“I just assumed you weren’t taking anyone,” she replied, eyes sliding to his feet.

“Good guess. Thank you for Aine. I know she can be a lot…she means well. She just…she has a heightened sense of justice.”

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing, Ivy replied. He shook his head.

“She’d make a good High Lady,” he murmured, daring to add, “Just like you.”

Ivy’s head snapped upwards, those russet eyes filled with disbelief. “You think I’ll be a good High Lady?”

He only nodded, not trusting himself not to ramble out his stupid feelings. Ivy bit her bottom lip, holding his gaze.

“I hope you know how to dance,” she finally said.

“I dance just fine,” he grumbled, turning his back to her. He meant to go find his father and waste an afternoon thinking about what it would be like to hold her for an entire night without having to admit he wanted to.

“Hey,” she called after his retreating back. “I’ll see you this evening, too?”

Alexander’s whole body ignited. He turned slowly, grateful the space between them hid his rapidly shifting scent. Her eyes were entirely too wide—too innocent. Alexander was desperate to know what the princess of Day Court was like in the bedroom. Was she mean? Sweet? What did she like, he wondered?

“Sure,” he agreed, like it was just one more thing he could be nonchalant about. “Your room?”

“My room,” she agreed softly. He nodded, turning again though instinct screamed at him to go get her, to drag her away and guard her like some long forgotten beast of old. He shook his head. It was the years of wanting her that was making him act this way, he told himself.

She surged forward, catching him by the arm before he could retreat. Her scent was an odd mixture of that tropical coconut and pineapple and salty fear. He looked down, brow furrowed.

“You should know,” she breathed softly, unaware of how his skin was rippling with the urge to shift into a beast and trot at her feet, snapping and snarling at anyone who got too close. “Maybe it’ll change your mind—”

“Nothing will change my mind, Ivy,” he murmured darkly.

“I’ve never…” she trailed off, swallowing hard. Alexander’s knees trembled.

“Never?” he whispered incredulously. In Day Court? He’d just assumed she had the same reputation as her brother, just better managed. “How?”

She scowled. “My father and my brother are busybodies,” she told him.

Alexander didn’t dare let himself think about what Lucien Vanserra would do if he realized his daughter had been defiled by the likes of him. Suddenly, it seemed risky to walk into Ivy’s bedroom and divest her of her virginity.

And he knew he would, regardless. He could hardly stand the thought of another male touching her. It had tormented him all these years, what she got up to in Day Court while openly hating him. And to know…fuck, he wished he could say the same.

“I just…”

“It changes nothing,” he lied. It changed a lot of things—like how he was supposed to leave her here knowing he’d had her first. Knowing he wanted to have her last. The only thing it changed was how he meant to approach the night.

She exhaled. “It’s just for the week,” she told him, reminding him she didn’t belong to him.

But as he nodded, Alexander couldn’t help but think that maybe it would. Maybe, if she got to know him, she’d like him as much as he liked her.

“Just the week.”

SOREN- TWO

Soren knew everything about his older sister. Ever since he’d had an awareness of Ivy, he knew about her. His mother called it his knowing when he was a little boy, but Soren thought it was just a product of living so closely with her his entire life. Ivy was serious, was committed to picking up after their father and embodying everything Day Court was proud of, that she often paid herself no attention at all. She was merely a vessel for which other people projected their hopes and dreams onto.

And Soren was the one who kept who she actually was secret in his body. He held no resentment towards her. Not when Ivy would have gone to war for him—if he’d ever needed it. Ivy had half-assed her training with Uncle Cassian but Soren never had. Someone needed to watch his sisters back and the courtiers in Day sure as shit never were. For all their talk of progress being inevitable, Soren knew they’d plunge a knife in her throat if they ever got half the chance, hoping the magic might pick him—or one of their terrible sons.

For twenty eight years, Soren had been all too happy to be her blade. He knew it’d be short lived. Ivy had a mate, and he’d known it since he’d been six years old. Standing in Spring Court, watching the way his sister and Alexander scowled had been enough to trigger a rare, unbidden vision. He’d confessed the whole thing to his father, who had ordered him to keep it quiet. Ivy didn’t need to be burdened with that information.

And as Alexander got older, Soren knew his father began separating them, afraid the bond would snap before she turned a century old—before she had a good sense of her place in the world and was tempted to let Alexander drag her into Spring to be his Lady.

And as always, Soren was forced to know exactly when it would happen. This time, this place. The gift of sight was tricky—fickle. He knew it happened this year, sometime during or after solstice. He knew Ivy would go to Spring though he didn’t understand what purpose, and he knew Alexander would pick up Soren’s duty as her consort. Knowing the warrior of Spring would one day love his sister enough to be willing to lay down his life for her, should it ever be necessary, was the only thing that offered Soren’s approval. Alexander was the spitting image of his father, though more muscular and far more terrifying. A beast draped in fine clothing was how Soren thought of him.

Soren had kept Ivy away from lesser males whose dalliances might have trapped her in a political marriage, only a little sorry for the double standard foisted upon her. She’d figure it all out eventually—and he knew she’d forgive him for it.

He didn’t need foresight to know that.

He considered that a life spent peeking into his sister's future had kept him from looking into his own. Of course Ivy had a mate. It seemed so obvious to him. If he did, Soren hoped to never know. He wasn’t interested in settling down, in being so focused on one being that it distracted him from his true passion in life—fucking.

Case and point—Soren woke to Ivy pounding on his bedroom door, startling the females in his bed awake. Three, to be exact.

“Dawn is going to be here in thirty minutes!” she called from the other side of the room. “You swore you’d help me greet people, Soren!”

“I’m up, I’m up,” he replied, grinning at the sleepy eyed females. It was a slow process convincing them to get up and sidle past his sister as he paraded through the room naked and on display. Their eyes slid all over him with appreciation and fuck he regretted this promise to his sister.

She waited for him to bathe and dress himself in the traditional Day Court attire. Soren liked the way the white panel of fabric, trimmed in gold, highlighted his warm brown skin. He also liked having his chest on display, though that was another matter entirely. He slid the snake arm cuff over his bicep just in time for Ivy to barge in, looking every inch a princess in that blue dress. She wore a similar gold band against her arm, shaped like crowning laurel leaves. Helion had given it to her with a wink.

Soren sat in a chair casually, lacing up his sandals of her shins with an unrepentant grin. “I’m going to tell mom you’re having orgies in your room again,” Ivy threatened.

“Are not,” Soren retorted.

“Will so,” she replied, reverting to a nine year old version of herself.

“You’ve never tattled a day in your life, Ives. You’re not gonna start now. Tell me you’re disappointed in me when we both know you’re just nervous about greeting all these High Lords alone, so we can be done with this.”

“You’re a prick,” she informed him, tossing a long wave of auburn hair over her shoulder.

“Can’t argue with that,” Soren said with a smile. He caught sight of himself in a mirror, pausing to adjust a loose curl flopping over his face so it fell exactly right over his forehead. Effortlessly messy, despite the effort it actually took, was his whole aesthetic.

Personally, Soren thought he was the best looking member of his family. Unlike Ivy, who was all their father, he was a better blend of both their parents and it showed, despite that same auburn hair and the russet eyes. He ran a hand over the bare part of his chest before following Ivy into the hall with five minutes to spare.

“Thesan is bringing a court as large as Uncle Rhys’s,” Ivy told him as they made their way down towards the entrance. “Since Tamlin says the humans have faebane, we might need another antidote.”

Soren blew out a breath. Better Ivy than him dealing with this. He knew it was weighing on her heavily, just as their mother was worrying. Humans attacking faeries was of course a problem…but faeries seeking retribution would always be so much worse. Ivy could walk into a human city and wipe them out with a snap of her fingers if she truly wanted to. Ivy was the best advocate the humans could hope for in terms of not being systematically destroyed. She carried their mothers legacy in her bones in a way Soren never had.

“The more, the merrier,” Soren agreed. He’d never quite managed to get a foothold in Dawn like he had in other courts. His father had Nuan, but Soren, a natural emissary though he wasn’t interested in picking that up anytime soon, had no one. Dawn was a different sort of place and his brash, chaotic nature wasn’t welcomed. Not by Thesan, especially, who seemed to tolerate his family at best.

They made it just in time. He could see Thesan and his white-winged consort Usilith. Ivy grabbed his wrist, squeezing just like she always did. I’m nervous.

He laced his fingers through his sisters.

You’ll be fine.

Soren’s eyes swept over the courtiers accompanying Thesan. Usilith was Captain of the Guard and though he wore no weapons—as they were not permitted during the week-long summit— he was dressed like a warrior in a uniform of purple and white. There were others there, clearly meant to protect the High Lord.

He caught Nuan grinning, winking when she saw him. Ivy greeted the High Lord with her usual charm and as Soren had been about to offer up his own welcome, his eyes settled on a female towards the very back. Unlike the others in their dreamy, flowing gowns, she was dressed in dark slacks and a rosy pink shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. One of her hands was golden, a match for the same magic that had given his father back his sight.

Her hair fell in a silken black sheet down her back and her warm, brown skin all but glowed with the bright, inner light all of Dawn Court courtiers seemed to possess. Their eyes met—her almond, near black eyes brimming with curiosity.

A violent snap reverberated in his chest, smacking him so hard it was as if someone had physically struck him. Her eyes went wide with shock as Soren stumbled backwards, his thoughts empty save for one word.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

“What did you say?” The High Lord’s voice drew Soren to the present. Hand against his chest, Soren looked between Thesan and his stunned sister. Her gaze begged him to stop talking. Not here, not like this.

“Tell me your name,” he said instead, looking at that female. He needed to know.

“Say nothing,” Thesan insisted, looking at the female and her rapidly rising and falling chest.

“I’ll get my father,” Ivy said, tugging on Soren’s arm. He yanked out of Ivy’s grip, unable to help himself. That was his mate and instinct demanded he go get her, that he take her away, that–

Arms wrapped around his chest, dragging him backwards.

“It’s just new,” Ivy was saying by way of explanation. “He’s not himself, I’m so sorry.”

“Cousin,” Nyx’s voice breathed as Soren struggled. “Take a breath. You’re scaring her.”

He whipped his head towards her again, inhaling sharply. Fear permeated the space and yet Soren couldn’t stop himself. Nyx and Ivy had to physically carry him away, all but locking him in their fathers study.

“Don’t let him out,” Ivy instructed Nyx. “I’m getting dad.”

Soren lunged after his sister, who had the audacity to spell and ward the doorway before slamming it shut. Soren shattered it with a near violent snarl, taking down all of them with him.

“You’re not the only Spell-Cleaver, Ivy!” he roared, kept in the room by Nyx and his wall of shadows. “Let me out.”

“Be reasonable,” Nyx warned, those blue eyes flashing dangerously. “You don’t know her and she’s already afraid of you.”

“I need to talk to her.”

“You need to sit down,” Nyx replied, pulling out the chair opposite his fathers desk and all but forcing Soren into it. “You need to take a deep breath before you start an incident.”

He couldn’t though. Soren paced viciously, eyeing that door and his cousin standing against it, wings flared in warning. All he could think about was his female.

His mate.

MEI:

“Are you okay?” Thesan asked, pacing the lounge Ivy Spell-Cleaver had offered up in the wake of her brothers outburst. Mei rubbed at her breast, terror and want warring in her chest. She’d seen Soren Spell-Cleaver before—always from afar. She’d always found him absurdly handsome with his chiseled face and those floppy curls. Good looking the way most males were.

And now, as she sat in that leather chair, Mei wondered if she hadn’t thought so because instinctively, she knew what he was to her.

Mate.

“I’m fine,” she managed, her voice wobbling. This was not how the week was supposed to go. She’d been cajoled out of her lab to help Lucien Vanserra with an antidote for the unusual type of faebane the humans had managed to create. An aerosol that, when sprayed, took down any fae within its cloud. It was inhaled, which meant it took effect rapidly, and they weren’t sure if their antidote from years past would be helpful.

Creating antidotes was her speciality. She’d heard the Day Court garden housed rare and deadly plants and outside of wanting to spare Prythian—and the humans—a bloody fight, Mei had hoped to see their collection.

Maintained, she knew, by Soren Spell-Cleaver. Gods, but she almost laughed when she thought about it. Almost. Because she’d seen the wildness on his face and how it had taken Nyx and Ivy all their strength to contain him. She had no doubt Thesan would have killed him had he come any closer but did Soren know that? Or had he merely not cared?

Lucien Vanserra swanned in, eyes falling on her before he ever said a word. She could see his surprise, the way he clearly wouldn’t have guessed. A Day Court prince…and her? Ivy was just behind, wringing her hands nervously.

“Your wards are down,” Thesan said dryly.

Lucien only nodded, jerking his head towards Ivy. That mechanical eye looked her over, clicking and shuttering even as the rest of him looked at Thesan. “Ivy is restoring them.”

“It won’t take long,” she swore, running her slim hands over the blue of her dress. Ivy was doing a better job of not looking, but her lips were also moving silently, presumably fixing what her brother had destroyed.

“Your son almost attacked one of my courtiers,” Thesan said, holding Lucien’s gaze. Lucien looked away from her, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“He was merely overwhelmed. He is spending the day composing himself. It won’t be a problem moving forward.”

“And if he’d reached her—”

“He didn’t want to harm her,” Lucien all but snapped. “It’s just shock. He’s young, he didn’t expect…”

“It’s fine,” Mei interrupted softly. “Don’t punish him on my account.”

“You’ll keep him away from her unless she seeks him out,” Thesan whispered, his voice final. “She came here to offer her assistance, not to be accosted.”

“You have my word,” Lucien swore. Behind him, Ivy nodded.

“You can spend the week with me, if you—”

“No Spell-Cleavers,” Thesan interrupted. Ivy’s pretty face fell, her disappointment palpable. “Or Archerons, or Vanserras or anyone married into your family. If I catch a hint of coercion, there will be sanctions the likes of which your court has never seen.”

Lucien’s expression tightened. It was hardly a secret that a lot of courts resented the Vanserra influence in the courts. Thesan and Helion had been friends and the rise of Lucien had interrupted a decent working relationship. Mei felt overwhelmed at the threat. After all, all fae hoped for a mate—their other half, their cauldron blessed match. Making an enemy of Soren’s family would make it twice as difficult to assimilate, assuming she accepted their bond.

“I’d like to see your garden, actually,” Mei said softly, looking over at Ivy’s hopeful face.

Thesan closed his eyes, exhaling softly. “I mean it.”

“If you think so little of us, I don’t know what else there is to say,” Lucien murmured.“What male has ever had a reasonable response to the violence of the mating bond?”

“You would know,” Thesan replied.

The Day Court High Lord barred his teeth, silenced by his nervous daughter.

“Soren isn’t going to do anything,” she breathed, looking directly at Mei. “I’d stake my life on it.”

“Care to make a barg—” “Don’t,” Mei breathed, before Thesan and Lucien truly came to blows. “Show me the garden. It’s fine. I’m fine,” she added, pressing a hand to her High Lord’s arm. She knew why he was so protective of her. She’d already lost her hand as a result of aggressive, overly possessive males. A casual fling taken too far by a much older male who assumed too much. Thesan had punished that male with his life and given seventeen year old Mei a place to live, to work, to find happiness again.

She understood why the sight of wild, uncontrollable Soren had shaken him deeply. It was a replay of before, only this time with another High Lord’s cherished son and heir. Who would hold Soren accountable if he had harmed her. She was no one, after all. In comparison to Soren Spell-Cleaver, who would never be made to face consequences, who would have been protected by not just Day, but Night and Autumn, too.

All of it made Mei nervous, and still she stood, running sweaty palms over her pants. Ivy offered her a slight smile, taking her hand and squeezing. “I will chaperone, if you want to meet him,” Ivy offered, speaking as if it were merely the two of them alone. As if both Thesan and Lucien weren’t watching with hawkish eyes. “And my Uncle Cassian can, too.”

Mei didn’t know if any of that made her feel better, but she nodded all the same. “I uh…maybe tomorrow?”

Ivy shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to her either way. She was clearly trying to do a little damage control, which made Mei feel slightly better. She wouldn’t foist her brother on him, of that Mei was mostly certain.

Ivy opened the door, head held high as she pushed through Usilith and his guard. Everyone watched, eyes narrowed, bodies tensed. There was a skill to how Ivy pretended not to notice, how she kept her own posture relaxed and easy. Mei was practically sweating, clinging to Ivy’s hand like a lifeline. She wanted to crawl into the ground, to vanish from sight.

She hated the attention more than she hated everything else. If Soren hadn’t made the snap between them so obvious, she thought they might be speaking instead of hiding from him. She didn’t know anyone who had a mate. Mei was too curious about her own.

So curious that when the humidity of Day Court hit her in the face, she turned to his sister and asked, “What is he like?”

“Soren?” Ivy replied, eyebrows raised. “He’s…” she trailed off and Mei wondered if it was truly that hard for his own sister to think of something nice to say about him.

“Charming,” Ivy finally said. “I know he didn’t come off that way but when he calms down he’s going to be thrilled. He’s been trying to make a friend in Dawn Court for a while now.”

That was not what Mei had expected. “Oh.”

“I’m really sorry about that, by the way,” she added, dropping Mei’s hand as they stepped onto a stone path leading through a winding hedge. “He’s not usually so stupid.”

She nodded. “Violent?”

Ivy laughed without meaning to. “Soren? No,” she added hastily. “I’m not telling you to meet him. I don’t think I’d want to meet a male who acted like that, either…shock or not. But if you do decide to, Soren is really decent.”

Mei sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“It would be nice to have another sister, though,” Ivy murmured, eyes alight with mischief. “Just between you and me.”

“And you don’t have a mate?”

She laughed, throwing her head back so the sun warmed her skin. “I doubt it.”

But Mei didn’t.

SOREN:

“Well?” he demanded that afternoon, pacing his bedroom when Ivy came in. She looked so smug and Soren, like any good little brother, wanted to wipe it off her face. He could have ruined her serenity in one fell swoop, could have told her about Alexander. Knowing Ivy, she would have banished Spring Court entirely and merely avoided the snap and after that morning, Soren wanted nothing more than to make her feel it.

“You fucked that one all up,” Ivy told him, closing the door beind her. “Thesan is irate and Mei—”

“Mei,” he breathed, settling at the sound. Her name was Mei. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to know until Ivy spoke it aloud. Mei. Mei. Mei.

“Yes, Mei,” Ivy agreed, flopping on the middle of his bed with a sigh, “Is afraid of you.”

“Of me?” he asked with disbelief. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“Well I know that,” Ivy agreed, tracking him as he came to join her on the bed. “But she doesn’t. What were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” he admitted, looking up at the ceiling as his regret washed over him. “I didn’t expect her.”

“You never thought to look into the future and see your own mate?”

“Would you want to know?” he asked her, drawing her attention. Ivy shifted uncomfortably, doubt crowding in her eyes.

“Do I?”

“Of course you do, Ives. Everyone does. That’s not what I asked. I asked if you wanted to know who yours was. If you could see the future, would you look?”

She bit her bottom lip. Probably. Ivy could be such a control freak. She shook her head all the same, smart considering how willing he was to ruin the whole thing for her.

“Does she want to see me?” he asked, suddenly nervous. If she was afraid of him to the point of not wanting to talk to him, she’d retreat to Dawn and he might never see her again. He had to swallow the inclination to pace, fisting his hands at his sides as he worked to master instinct.

“She asked me what you were like,” Ivy admitted.

“Did you tell her what I skilled lover I—ow, fuck, Ivy.”

Ivy slapped him hard in the chest. “Of course not. Why would I tell a frightened female her mate was a skilled lover? Why would I ever say that about you? I told her you were charming and decent. Things that would make her want to have a conversation with you.”

Ivy could be so calculating at times. Soren appreciated it. “And her? What’s she like?”

“Quiet,” Ivy offered. “She wanted to see the poison garden. I showed her, but I don’t know anything about what’s growing over there. You should take her, and be normal about it.”

“I can be so normal,” Soren swore, not sure if he really meant it or not. Ivy smiled, exhaling a breath.

“I know you can. Treat her like any other female–”

“Maybe a little better,” he admitted ruefully. “Since she’s my mate and all.”

“I just meant to get out of your head,” Ivy murmured. “And swallow instinct. Ask dad how he did it—”

“I don’t want to talk to dad about this,” Soren mumbled. “Is he pissed?”

Ivy laughed. “Of course he is. Thesan threatened to slap sanctions on him if you displeased him.”

“Great,” Soren grumbled. “Terrible timing given mom—”

“Don’t you dare,” Ivy interrupted softly.

“Is pregnant again,” Soren finished, looking at his sister. He’d spoiled Sage’s pregnancy, too. He knew why Ivy didn’t want anymore siblings, why she warred with the love she felt for her family and her fear a new child would usurp her. No matter how often Soren swore up and down Ivy would sit on that throne someday, that fear lingered deep in his sisters gut. That feeling that she was somehow unworthy, that someone better was merely waiting and she was but a placeholder. As if the magic worked that way. It would have simply chosen no one.

“Does mom know?”

He nodded. “I told you there would be eight of us. You’ll still be High Lady, Ives.”

She put her head on his shoulder. “Another baby…Sage still feels like an infant.”

“She’s gonna have to grow up,” Soren murmured. “Nyx thinks we should ask dad to train her. Toughen her up a bit.”

Ivy laughed again, her pretty face splitting with amusement. There was something inherently funny about imagining delicate, sweet Sage holding an Illyrian blade. She wasn’t built for it, which made her an easy target for anyone hoping to harm their family. He knew Ivy worried about it, too.

Ivy worried about everything and Soren worried about nothing. Not until that moment, anyway. He sat up, hands on his bare thighs, as he reflected on what a mess things were. Humans invading Spring. A mate that was afraid of him. Two sisters with targets on their back and another baby on the way. Resting his chin on his shoulder, he waited for Ivy to sit up, too.

“It’s only been a day,” he grumbled. “Too much is happening too fast.”

“Is this a bad time to mention I’m going to solstice with Alexander?” she asked him. Soren turned to look at her, unable to contain his laugh.

“I didn’t know you liked him,” Soren managed, pulling her against his body for a hug. “Should I start practicing my bow to the future consort?”

“Shut up,” she retorted. “Aine thinks we hate Spring—”

“You do hate Spring.”

“And was punishing Sage for it. So I said I’d take Alexander to Solstice as a truce.”

“What did he ever do?” Soren asked, unable to help himself. “To make you hate him? What did he do?”

“He doesn’t think females should be High Ladies–”

“Alexander?” Soren interrupted, disbelief lacing his words.

She shrugged. “I thought so, anyway. But he said something this morning and…” whatever Alexander said had softened some of that long-standing hatred. It was wrong to wish a brutal snap on his sister and yet Soren did wish it, knowing she’d be happy. Deep, deep down, he thought it would be fun to watch Ivy come unhinged, if only a little.

Soren huffed a breath while Ivy stood, tugging at his arm. “No more of this. Get out there, and show your mate what the prince of Day Court is actually like.”

“I don’t think she wants to see me naked just yet–oh Cauldron, Ivy, stop hitting me!”

“I mean it,” she all but snarled. “Be charming.”

He scowled. “I can be so charming.”

But from the skeptical look on his sister's face, Soren could see Ivy didn’t believe him.

MEI:

Ivy returned that afternoon, arm looped through her brothers. She was flanked by their cousin Nyx, his violet gaze all but pinned on Soren. Mei had gone still at the sight of him stepping into the large ballroom they were currently gathered in, waiting to see him come barreling over like before. His russet eyes swept over the room, landing on her only seconds later.

She’d never been more nervous in her life. Soren wasn’t like any male she’d ever seen in her life. He was impossibly tall—nearly as tall as the male from Spring court. Muscular, too, and that gleaming, bronzed body was all but on display thanks to the ceremonial dress wear that was popular in Day Court. A thin strip of white cloth draped against his chiseled chest and the fabric that covered his waist showed of toned thighs. He looked like a warrior, which was so at odds with what his sister had said.

Court trained emissary. That had been her description of Soren’s talents. Just like his High Lord father, currently sitting atop a golden throne, leaned over the arm to speak with his wife. Their court was so much larger than Thesans, and less structures. Casual in a way that seemed to invite chaos. Mei had seen a small, brown bear running the halls while another Spell-Cleaver and one of the children from the Night Court squealed with laughter, chasing after it with open delight.

But children were already rare in Dawn Court. Mei couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen one, though she was only twenty six, so it wasn’t as if she’d been waiting centuries.

Twenty six. Mated.

Soren kept his eyes on her until his sister tugged him towards another red haired girl that was clearly more Vanserra than Spell-Cleaver. She didn’t know the royal children well enough to know the girls name, only that it softened her to see him lift her up in the air with an easy smile. The female screeched, her pleasure open and evident.

She wanted to speak to him. Maybe just once, she reasoned. Just to know what he was like. Taking a deep breath, Mei slipped from the spacious room for the patio, pushed open the gate, and began walking towards the garden. She didn’t have to ask if he saw, or look back to know he was following behind. Some new sense had been created when that string tied itself to her rib, all but vibrating his steps.

“Hey,” his warm, masculine voice murmured. Fingers brushed her elbow, sending a shock through her entire body. “About this morning. I’m sorry.”

She turned to look up at him, squinting against the unrelenting sun. “Oh,” she murmured, taken aback by how much lovelier he was in person. Beautiful, really. Unfairly so, even without the mating bond overriding her good sense.

“Forgive me?” he asked, unguarded hope on his face.

“Maybe,” she agreed.

His face split with a smile. “Ivy says you like poison.”

“I like antidotes,” she corrected. Soren nodded, some of his red curls flopping into his wide eyes.

“Well, I like poisons,” he informed her, hand on his bare chest. “And I’m not so ignorant I can’t at least show you the different ones we cultivate here.”

Behind them, Ivy’s soft voice spluttered, “Ignorant—”

“My sister is chaperoning us,” he whispered, offering her his muscular bicep. Mei didn’t take it, though she was tempted.

“She promised me she would,” Mei told him, shoving her hands in her pockets to keep from giving in to the urge to touch him. Gods she wanted to. Mei swallowed hard. How was she supposed to survive a week of this male when every little piece of her was ready to feed and fuck him?

It’s just the mating bond, she chanted. Over and over, as they turned down a familiar path in his mothers garden. Ivy had taken her earlier, pathetically pitiful when Mei asked her about the plants. Elain Vanserra was supposedly a master gardener and her own daughter didn’t seem to know the difference between a petunia and a daisy.

Soren did, though. She’d lapsed into silence, working furiously not to let him know she was attracted to him. And the silver tongued prince had merely upheld the conversation on both ends by pointing to each flower, shrub, and herb they came across, along with its origins. Mei didn’t quite know what to make of that—it seemed like a female pastime and Soren seemed like a warrior. And yet he spoke so easily of each bloom and which court his mother had pilfered it from that Mei finally broke her silence.

“You like to garden?” she asked.

Soren’s whole face lit up with a sunlit glow. The light radiating from his golden brown skin had nothing to do with the sunlight over head—it was all him. It reminded her that his family was magically powerful. His mother, Cauldron-blessed with magic people only whispered of, and his father born of both Day and Autumn court. What lurked in his veins, she wondered?

“I was born in a garden,” he joked. “Practically, anyway.”

Stealing a glance and regretting it when she found he was just as handsome as he had been before, she asked, “Is it true you’re a seer?”

He seemed to tense beside her. “Want to know your future?”

“No,” she breathed, shaking her head quickly. “Cauldron, no. I just…seers are rare, right? And you and your mother are one?”

He relaxed. “Yeah. It’s not all its cracked up to be.”

“You didn’t see us?” she asked him without thinking, reflecting on how feral he’d gone that morning. Hardly the behavior of a male who expected to meet his mate. Soren frowned.

“Would you want to know ahead of time? Everything? Every tragedy, every death, every little moment that might give you joy? Spoiled for sheer curiosity's sake?”

“I guess not.”

“Me too,” Soren agreed with a soft exhale of air. “I regret this morning, though. I just…I guess…I didn’t expect you. I’d like a chance to redeem myself.”

“Isn’t that what this is?”

“No,” he said quickly, stopping her before a series of trellises draped in violet lavender. “This is just a walk in the garden. Redemption would be taking you to solstice at the end of the week. Courting you,” he added pointedly. Mei didn’t know how to respond to that. She had never been courted in her life. His eyes slid down her body, landing on that golden hand. She was such an oddity for it, was all but shunned anywhere but inside Thesan's palace.

The fae were supposed to be beautiful—unblemished. Her arm was proof she was different. Strange. Standing beneath Soren’s russet eyes and his perfect frame, she felt that old insecurity magnified.

He brushed long fingers over her cheek. “You look like Day Court feels,” he murmured, dropping his hand before she could pull away. She was far too afraid to ask him to follow up on that thought.

She wondered if, given his own father had a Dawn Court eye, if her arm hardly registered for him. “The solstice ball?” she clarified.

Soren nodded, curls bouncing around his face. “Just the week. And if you decide, at the end of the week, you don’t want anything to do with me, I’ll walk away.”

“Just like that?” she practically whispered. Soren nodded, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“Just like that,” he agreed. He wouldn’t like it—the expression on his face made that perfectly clear.

He held out his hand and Mei was dazed to realize he meant to make it a bargain between them. “No forcing me to accept the bond,” she said, straightening her spine. Soren’s eyes widened and too late, she realized that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. It had crossed hers, though. There were males who would try and find a loophole in this arrangement, who would make it impossible for her to let him leave.

“It’s a crime, in my court,” Soren told her gravely. “To force a female, mating bond or not.”

She blinked, nodding as she banished the thought of that other male. Dead—he was dead.

She took Soren’s hand. Calluses scraped over her skin, catching softly.

“It’s a deal, then.”

Soren’s smile was breathtaking.

“It’s a deal.”

#jesus this is so long #acotar next gen #it felt weird to make two separate posts #ivy and alex are back at it #soren and mei too #this is like one of those spot the differences #i added a bunch of new shit #but the plot remains the same.#im going to costco now #for a hotdog

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